Workers gathered on the one nearest them, and then sank into the ground, and Fee peered over the edge and looked down, saw them stepping off to collect more supplies.
She glanced up at the frame, and was impressed all over again at its size. If the Garmman were going to lift it up, that would be something to see.
Kyber’s Arm, always in the background, did look further away, just as Bart said it would. So the clock was probably ticking.
They reached the build center, a long, low rectangle, and Vira led them in.
Bart closed the door quickly behind them to keep out the hot air, and Fee stood in the cool, enjoying the chill of the air blowing on her face.
“Here.”
She turned and saw Bart was holding a cup of water out to her.
She took it gratefully. “Thanks.”
Vira eyed them both, as if Bart’s courtesy was suspicious.
He thought she’d tried to help him, and he’d already been inclined to think better of her after she challenged Vira about the Garmman and their motives.
He was definitely less compliant with Vira’s demands.
“So this is our expert.” Behind Vira, a Balcoan in overalls, with the red sand of the desert sticking to his sweat-dampened skin, rubbed his hands with a cloth.
“If you usually source your experts by kidnapping them and threatening them and their friends with death and destruction if they don’t cooperate, then yes, I suppose I am.” Fiona smiled at him.
He took a step back and shot a nervous look at Vira. “You kidnapped her?”
“Did you honestly think the manager of Larga Ways, friend to the thinking system we’ve stolen, was going to come willingly, Nukolo?” Vira’s voice was as irritated as her expression.
“No.” Nukolo’s voice wobbled, and then he shrugged. “No.”
“Ask what you have to ask. And I’ll remind you that the same threat applies.” Vira pointed a finger at Fee.
“A Garmman battleship will shoot Larga Ways,” Fee said, nodding her head. “I remember.”
Nukolo swallowed. Looked like he wanted to object, but Vira shot him such a dirty look he took a step back.
The silver cylinder was on a table in the cluttered space.
There were blueprints and models laid out on various surfaces, and two Balcoans sat hunched over screens against the far wall of the small room.
“I’ve never dealt with this metal before,” Nukolo said, flicking a fingernail against the silver container. “It’s not exactly rare, but there’s no commercial use for it, so I would never have thought about it as a containment device, but you say it worked?” He glanced at Vira.
She nodded.
“Fascinating. I’ll have to experiment with it once this is over.” He cleared his throat. “But as for what’s inside . . .” He opened the lid and carefully brought out the trophy.
Fee stared at him blandly. Had Nukolo worked out there was nothing inside there but a four-sided crystal shard with some words etched into the flat front surface?
Nukolo lifted it up and stared at it. “Where does it go?”
“There’s a lock-safe. A small room in the heart of the Class 5 where the key is kept.” She nodded toward the trophy.
Nukolo went to study the large screen to their left, which showed a 3D image of the battleship. “The center, you say?”
She nodded, and he used his fingertips to twist the image and then peel it back.
“It’s hidden by a secret panel in a corridor that was near the med bay on Eazi’s Class 5. I can’t speak for the other four.”
